


destroyer of worlds

by spacegirlkj



Series: AI au [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Non-Human Genitalia, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Robot Sex, Self-Lubrication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 03:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15234774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegirlkj/pseuds/spacegirlkj
Summary: “I want you closer,” Hinata whispers, a wisp of words that hover between them. “I want you to know me.”Set after the events of Precipice in the Mountains.





	destroyer of worlds

**Author's Note:**

> basically i had a question of how that one scene in the og fic would happen and this is the answer. you DONT have to read precipice in the mountain to understand but you should anyways! basically hinata is a robot and thats that baby

 

Hinata sits on Iwaizumi’s waist, mindful of the bandage wrapped around his thigh. He's calmed down considerably in the last few days, and wears a face with smooth skin and a bright smile, hands tracing Iwaizumi’s chest. His shirt is off, and Hinata is wearing it, the soft lights of his inner mechanisms glowing from inside of the fabric. It's a one two punch, to feel this vulnerable and bare next to Hinata. Maybe all he wanted was to relate, to empathize. Maybe all Iwaizumi wanted was to understand.

But now, they don't talk about that. They aren't talking much at all, mouths much too busy with something else to bother exchanging words. Hinata is cold but kisses soft and dainty, has the gall to shiver when Iwaizumi brushes fingers against his cheek. Hinata devours him slowly, in perfect time with Iwaizumi’s breathing, the only other sound besides the whirr of Hinata's mechanisms. He pretends to breathe sometimes, like now, where he pulls back and sighs and feels Iwaizumi’s chest once more, staring intently at the definition under his hands.

Suddenly, Hinata rolls off Iwaizumi, lying down on the bed beside him. His shirt has rode up to his stomach, leaving his bare legs and lower half for Iwaizumi to see. He sits up, furrowing his brow. “What’re you up to?”

“I want you closer,” he whispers, a wisp of words that hover between them. “I want you to know me.”

“But I already know you,” Iwaizumi says, climbing close to hover overtop of Hinata.

Hinata hums, hand reaching up to hold Iwaizumi’s cheek. “I want you to know me like this,” he whispers. “Tooru is gonna give me skin tomorrow, that you can touch and feel. But tonight, I want you to know me like this. I want you to see me for all I am.”

Iwaizumi balks for only a moment before regaining his composure, ducking his head low to rest in the crook of Hinata’s neck. “You’re more than just your body. We’re all more than just our bodies,” Iwaizumi mumbles, kissing the underside of Hinata’s jaw.

“But this is my body, and I want you to show me just how much you love it like you say you do,” Hinata says, shifting so that his legs part slightly, and despite Iwaizumi’s eyes being elsewhere, he can feel the press of legs against his own. “Won’t you?”

Iwaizumi’s stomach clenches as he kisses up Hinata’s jaw and towards his ear, hot and wet, open mouthed trails that leave Hinata waiting for his response. When Iwaizumi settles in front of his lips, their foreheads pressed together, they don’t need words, not when Hinata’s hands have already moved to tangle in Iwaizumi’s hair, not when Iwaizumi has pressed their lips together once more.

They’re desperate now in a way they never were before, pushing back on each other and meeting halfway with tongues and teeth and lips bitten raw. Hinata is immaculate in design— bruises bloom on his jaw where Iwaizumi relented, his lips swelling in an imitation of blood— but he’s immaculate in every way conceivable to Iwaizumi’s mind right now, nevermind the wound on his leg or any lingering fears. Hinata swallows them whole, swallows Iwaizumi whole, presses their tongues together and slides underneath it as if he’s memorizing every nook there is to find.

Iwaizumi lets his hand wander to Hinata’s waist, and skin or not, the soft material that makes up his body reacts to the touch. Something inside of him glows and Hinata sighs into his mouth, letting Iwaizumi take the lead as his hands curl tighter in his hair. Iwaizumi doesn't know if Hinata knows how much he likes that, but wouldn't be surprised if he had it figured out already, wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one pulling the strings, even with Iwaizumi on top. But Hinata’s chest stutters in as Iwaizumi’s hands roam over it, ghosting the strong mast of his sternum and the will-be pinpoints of nipples and the softness between ribs. He can feel it now, but it's not quite the same. Everything is harder, harsher, raw, so unlike the Hinata Iwaizumi knows. And yet this is him, stripped of everything else, writhing when Iwaizumi hums and pulls away to bite his neck, arching his back when his thigh slots between his legs.

Iwaizumi isn't sure how any of this works with Hinata, but he knows it can work, at the very least. His expectations quickly turn to dust when Hinata moans and grinds down on his knee, spreading something cool and undeniably wet across it. Iwaizumi only pauses for a moment before pressing his knee flush with Hinata’s centre, leaning back from his neck to watch as Hinata grinds down against him, eyes screwed shut and mouth ajar, hands clinging onto Iwaizumi’s biceps like a tether back to this earth.

“Tighter,” Hinata begs, and the tone of his strained voice and the way his adam's apple bobs has Iwaizumi’s head swarming. “Hold me tighter, Hajime, please.”

Iwaizumi complies because there was never another choice in the world. He watches Hinata squirm for just a moment longer before surging down, pressing their lips together while grinding down against him. Hinata releases a strained noise against his lips, grip in his hair exchanged in favour of naming every muscle in his back with his hands instead, dragging nails down his spine and pulling Iwaizumi down flush against his chest. The kiss leaves Iwaizumi breathless once more, leaves him to continue kissing Hinata until his lips hurt, and even then, with spit slick between their mouths, he continues, licking Hinata’s lip and biting, a little rougher than before simply because he knows he’ll never draw blood. And Hinata keens, body tensing as he drops one hand to grab Iwaizumi’s and force it between his legs, up against his core. Hinata grinds down again and mumbles _please_ amidst a plethora of jargon and noises Iwaizumi can only describe as _desperate._ Slowly, Iwaizumi begins to move his hand, slipping it over the hole between Hinata’s legs. It's even wetter now, coating his fingers in a sticky substance as he drags them along Hinata’s thighs, watching his reaction. Hinata’s entire body tenses as he writhes, eyes still shut and nails digging into Iwaizumi’s back as he presses his fingers inside.

It’s soft, not rigid like Iwaizumi thought to expect. There’s a bit of a give as he slowly presses his middle and forefinger inside up to the knuckle, with the only resistance being the tightness of the inside. His own breath quickens as he leans back down to kiss Hinata’s jaw, once, twice, three times, each time paired with a careful press of his fingers against Hinata’s inner walls.

“A-ah, Hajime—“ Hinata stammers, voice airy as his cheeks tint rose.

“Okay?” Iwaizumi asks, the roughness of his own voice startling him.

Hinata nods, rotating his hips and moaning when Iwaizumi begins to pump them in and out, in and out, slowly, curling them as he rocks his hand inside of Hinata. His lips ghost over the shell of Hinata’s ear as he whispers.

“Good?”

“Hng, yes, more,” Hinata pleads, hands flying back up to Iwaizumi’s hair, tugging and forcing his head into his neck. Iwaizumi chuckles, the warmth in chest spreading through Hinata as he slowly presses a third finger beside the two and moves them at a steady pace, biting and kissing Hinata’s neck where it meets his jaw. He wouldn't move from here even if he could, not when he can hear everything inside of Hinata whirring and his mock breaths rising and falling and the generated heat radiating through his body. Iwaizumi presses in with a bit more force as he bites Hinata’s neck and Hinata cries out, panting as Iwaizumi grows confident in the set pace.

It’s when he twists his hand and his fingers brush against Hinata’s walls that he gets the reaction he's been waiting for— the toes curled, the eyes open wide, the shift of hips and arch of back and—

“Again, _Hajime please—”_

And Iwaizumi does it again and smiles, swearing under his breath at the way Hinata exhales like this is the best thing in the world, hands woven so tightly in Iwaizumi’s hair it hurts.

“More?” Iwaizumi asks, kissing his cheek as he stares down at him.

“You,” Hinata says. “Just— just you.”

Iwaizumi chokes on his own spit and ducks his head into the crook of Hinata’s neck to hide his blush, aware of how Hinata laughs, hitched as Iwaizumi’s fingers slide out of him and wipe the robot-lube on the sheets. He leans back and Hinata whines, even though it's necessary to shuck off his boxers and toss them into the corner. It makes him all the more aware of how desperate he is, how he strains to lean back down and kiss Hinata, needier than he'd care to admit as he lines himself up and presses inside.

It’s slow at first, Hinata's hands gripping on his shoulders grounding him as he curses as slides in fully, bottoming out and groaning when Hinata moans beneath him, breathy and hungry and already egging him on. He's not hot on the inside, but is as tight as anyone else, throbbing and squeezing Iwaizumi as he curses again as he pulls out. He pushes back in, shallow at first, then deeper, then pulls out further and sets a pace that's steady and fast because every part of him is screaming under the skin. He holds Hinata tight in his arms as he thrusts into him again, murmuring his name and praise that soon becomes jumbled with moans and heavy breaths that he can't discern. Hinata doesn't care, mouth slack as he drools slightly, humming as his eyes squeeze tight, his grip on Iwaizumi tight enough that Iwaizumi is sure it'll leave marks to admire come morning.

Hinata throws a leg over Iwaizumi’s waist and instantly cries out, clenching down around him. “Hajime, Hajime _there—“_

And Iwaizumi listens because what's left of his pride is here, between them, because he's close and half out of his mind and when he slams into him again, bordering on rough enough that he worries. Hinata exhales like the entire world is lifting off him, holding Iwaizumi tight as not to drift away as his release sweeps over him. Iwaizumi follows not long after, pulling out and making a mess of the shirt Hinata wears, his shirt hinata wears, and if it weren't for the throbbing and the post sex high buzzing in him as he collapsed down on top of hinata, he’d think this all to be a fever dream.

The shirt is ruined anyway, so Iwaizumi eases Hinata out of it and uses it to clean them up, pulling the covers up around them as Hinata rolls over and nestles himself against his chest. His hands-- small, dainty, world destroying hands-- rest above his heart, gentle and almost as treasuring as the look he gives Iwaizumi.

“Thank you,” he says. Unspoken— _I love you._ Real, real, real.

 


End file.
